


Doctor strange drabbles

by Samurai_Beetle



Category: Doctor Strange (Comics), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 01:25:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15697308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samurai_Beetle/pseuds/Samurai_Beetle
Summary: I just post angst and other things I write for this man





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Angst. Strange looks at himself in the mirror lol

Who the hell was that in the mirror? Oh. It was him. Strange looked at the most normal thing in his entire home, a simple mirror. He had a mirror somewhere else that showed what the viewer thinks of themselves. He'd see nothing but a broken man when he walked past. He never looked twice. Strange could see himself, and what the hell happened to himself. Dark circles casted underneath his eyes like a curse. Hair that used to have hands that meant something to him run-through it but now it lay limp, only being held back by hairspray. Bushy eyebrows with a scar around them from when he was eighteen and got an eyebrow piercing because if he didn't become a surgeon he was still damn rich.

Stephen's eyes glazed over each and every single thing that was in the mirror. His brown eyes that held a childlike wonder when he first entered the world of sorcerery now faded over time like sepia on an old photograph. The sorcerer supreme stood there relasping on what led to this, the corruption of his features, corruption of his soul really. His cloak brushed against his cheek as if to comfort him and he let out a chuckle, petting it before he spoke to it, just above a whisper. "I'm fine." Of course that was a lie, he wanted to break this mirror this very moment. He wanted to watch himself get dissected into pieces again. A sort of sadistic thought. But it was one of the only ones he had other than god awful lust. He hated it.

Lust, he's always been a flirt. He always had an issue with commitment and maybe that's why he fit so perfectly with the 'ladies man' trope. He knew that what he did with her over the past two weeks was definitely wrong. He shouldn't of done it. It was consensual, of course. That didn't mean he didn't regret it. It felt good. But it was wrong, oh so wrong. Stephen Strange had commitment issues, he learnt how to be humble, he learnt how to be a decent human being, but commitment? No. It's plagued him since the playground. It was why Clea and him divorced, it was why he slept with someone he shouldn't have. And it was why he was missing someone's birthday today.


	2. Lookback part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Strange uses a machine that Tony Stark created to view his life from a third person perspective. It helps him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The machine is used at the start of captain america civil war for those who are like 'Tony has no such thing!' yes he does. Everything in this story I've taken from the comics. although there are influences from the mcu.

Stephen only stepped inside the machine because some of his fellow avengers recommended it, said it was a good way to take a look back at his life and how to alter it. He was dealing with nightmare again yesterday so, he needed a break more than anything. Nonetheless, he stepped in. It took it a while to boot up, but he was greeted with the view of her Strange immediately felt his heart drop. 

It was Donna Strange. His big sister. 

He remembered that day, and swallowed the lump in his throat. He saw himself, straight out of med school laughing along with her and pointing to the pool, she nodded and the two jumped in, it was fun, for a while, before disaster struck. He remembered her cry of pain and her clutching her leg before falling. Stephen only found her ten minutes later, with no pulse or no sign of coming back. Donna Strange was dead. 

The illustration began to fade, and he contemplated using magic to suppress his feelings during this entire event. Better not to, it would interfere with later magic.

Cut to later, when he was surgeon and was ruining lives the moment he looked at the bill and decided it wasn't large enough for him. The phone call that Beverly Strange had died. Although no one saw, or even heard, after the phone was put down, Strange threw the contents of his desk onto the floor, he didn't know what consumed him, anger, fear, sadness? He really didn't know. One thing was for certain, he didn't move on.

Two years later, his little brother Victor, called from their home in Philadelphia, 

"Dad's dying, you need to come see him, now." 

Stephen remembered that his work as a surgeon kept his hand still even when he was shaking, Strange furrowed his brows, voice trembling, but he whispered. 

"No."

. He didn't know what he was thinking, of course he wanted to see his dad, but something stopped him, he wanted no more tradegies, none at all. Of course Victor, being Victor, came to his apartment himself and put down his bass guitar before grabbing his brother by the collar and yelling at him. 

"WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU GO SEE HIM?"

Stephen had no reply.

"NOW YOU CAN'T SPEAK?" 

"You're an asshole, just go die, whatever." 

He knew he didn't mean it, right? Stephen followed Victor, as he went down the stairs of the apartment complex he was trying to get him to understand. Victor was too busy shouting at his older brother, that he didn't notice the car that was hightailing towards him. The driver left, not wanting to serve a jail sentence. And Stephen Strange, a surgeon without his tools and equipment only sat there on the New York road, holding his little brother in his arms, his only family, and watched as he left. Currently, the real Stephen was far too over whelmed by even a fraction of the pain he went through. He sank to the floor, he refused to suppress his emotions again and this was the result, the sorcerer supreme of earth on the floor of a room in New York city. Tears streaming down his face and his body curled up in the corner. He got up shakily, casting an illusion that he was fine, as he would do. And stepped out the machine not daring to look back.

 

That wouldn't be the end of it. Two days later he stepped back in, his life didn't end when Victor's did unfortunately. He carried on for two more years before it came to the day. We all knew what day that was, the day that the arrogant neurosurgeon Doctor Strange died and became only 'Stephen Strange'. Arrogance lead to disaster, disaster lead to bargaining, bargaining,

it led him to Kamar-Taj. 

His first days there was met with great difficulty his insecurities, his mental block, his problems all emerged and formed into a wall that prevented him from accessing what he could be, he'd remember laying there in the cold room, watching his breath become one with the wind, his eyes watering and a choked sob emitting from his throat, he felt pathetic. Helpless, a husk of what he could truly be. The ancient one decided to speak with him one day, and the two went walking along the temple. 

"What do you see when you view yourself in the Mirror, Stephen?"

If Strange learnt anything from the ancient one, It was that he was never right, or rather what he thought he knew was right. Stephen's eyes met the floor, he felt vulnerable. He sighed and a meek response came out.

"An embarrassment, former husk of myself. The only thing important to me taken away like the universe played some sick game with me as it's favourite punching bag. Well, one of them, the universe isn't merciful to us all-" 

The Ancient One put a finger to his lips, a smile across his features, somewhat faded given his age, but still there. 

"The universe has given you a chance Mr.Strange, you may view this as punishment, but view it as rebirth. The death of your family members has weighed you for so long, and now you have been granted the opportunity to start anew. Seize it Stephen." 

Strange already felt his face scrunching up and lifted a hand to go wipe tears if they even dared escape. The Ancient one only chuckled, his frail body making it's way to Strange and embracing him. If he remembered correctly, it helped people get back on their feet. It did, after that conversation, Stephen began to make contact with the mystic arts, and he began to become good at it. During his time there he met Wong, granted the two weren't the best of friends at the start, but they got along well enough for Kamar-Taj to remain intact. For the first time since he was a surgeon, he felt some sort of completeness. Emphasis on some.

He remembered how much it hurt, when Dormammu sent minions to Earth and the ancient one died at the hands of them, using the last of his efforts to kill them all. It worked, Wong's cry of anguish at the sight snapped him away from his status of trying to get to Dormammu, The sorcerers present that day all crowded around the ancient one, some like vultures, wanted to snatch the title of sorcerer supreme, others, like wong and him, were mourning. His eyes were shut, crimson staining his clothing as he turned to Stephen, a finger in his direction. 

"You..." 

They all knew what it meant and Strange didn't want it. But the sea of hopeful faces, some envious of course all forced him to swallow the lump in his chest as he simply said.

"Let's shut the dimensional rift."

He remembered what Wong told him as he flew straight into the belly of the beast, that time in the dark dimension passed by slower, that a month there was simply three days on earth. He didn't know what he was going to jump into but accepted it, entering the Dark Dimension.


End file.
